


Scent & Breakfast

by shotgunsinlace



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Dry Orgasm, Fluff, Hand Feeding, Humor, Inappropriate use of pillows, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Devil May Cry 5, Scent Kink, Sex Toys, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 01:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19241161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/shotgunsinlace
Summary: Vergil returns from a job to a suspiciously clean bedroom and a haphazardly scribbled note telling him to treat himself. Whatever Dante is up to, he doesn't trust it. Neither does he trust the velvet satchel innocently resting on the bedside table - his brother's lascivious intentions written all over it.





	Scent & Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Months ago I came across a tweet that said something along the lines of "give vergil a vibe and some lube and he'll never cause trouble again" (and I cannot, for the life of me, find it), and that's kind of what inspired this fic. I did not expect it to get this long, but here I am.
> 
> Beta'd by the fantastic Originblue over in the Spardacest server. (Bunch of wonderful peeps there, I swear)

The piece of paper taped to Dante’s bedroom door makes Vergil question his plan of action. Said plan had only included a shower and maybe a quick grab to eat, given his human needs have become more prominent since his return from the Underworld.

_Tidied the place up. Treat yourself. ;)_

Vergil plucks the messily written note and frowns at it. The front office is as cluttered as it was when he left last week, with only a handful of bottles added into the mix near the vicinity of Dante’s desk. He feels like a broken record at this point, threatening Dante that if they want more business coming in, at the very least, the main area should be spotless. It’s gotten slightly better since their arrival, with Vergil tending to most of the arrangements and such, but it’s still a hazardous area most of the time.

Pushing the door to their shared bedroom open, Vergil pauses. “What are you up to, Dante?” he says into the empty room, his younger twin miles away on a job.

The bedroom is immaculate.

The floor looks to have been swept and potentially mopped, all trash and clothes gone from the random heaps strewn about. The curtains are tied back to reveal clean windows. The desk pressed against the far wall is cleared of all miscellaneous junk Dante insisted he keep nearby, now hosting nothing but a lamp and a small stack of books. The closet door is closed, and Vergil knows better than to steal a peek.

He does so anyways, only to find their clothes neatly hung up and their shoes properly lined up along the back wall.

Dante clearly must have done something devastatingly awful and is trying to get in Vergil’s good graces before he even learns of it.

Most shocking of all is the state of their bed. The sheets are alluringly soft, smelling of fresh laundry and a hint of cologne. The pillows are arranged how Vergil likes them, propped up against the headboard and decently fluffed. The duvet is folded halfway down as a sort of invitation, and Vergil staves off the urge to simply crawl into bed and sleep off the job he just returned from.

Instead, he goes for the shower.

The adjoining bathroom is slightly less flawless, but an attempt seems to have been made. The sink, toilet, and tub are all back to their original white, and the small area smells of cleaning products.

There’s a new bar of soap resting on a plastic soap dish Vergil hadn’t been aware Dante owned. Beside it is a small assortment of shower gels and a neatly folded washcloth. All of which spikes Vergil’s suspicion further.

As efficiently as he does everything, Vergil removes his clothes and steps into the shower, delighting in the hot water that pounds his back muscles. It’s when he turns around that he sees it – another note taped to the wall.

_What? Can’t a guy just spoil his brother?_

Vergil can’t help the miniscule smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. “You’re insufferable.”

He methodically goes through the process of washing his hair, making certain to scrub his scalp free of any remaining gore that may later begin to smell. Behind his ears, around his neck, under his arms, behind his knees, between his toes – Vergil cleans every inch of himself and then lingers under the water until it begins to grow cold. It’s self-indulgent of him, he’s aware, and he most likely would have stepped out the moment he was done were there anyone else in the building.

But there isn’t. Vergil is alone. And while brick and mortar won’t keep demons out, his wards will. Plus, he’s locked the front door in case any errant human decides to waltz in looking to hire anyone off the hunter roster.

Showers are one of the more enjoyable things of being back in the human world. He supposes baths would be amazing as well if their tub could hold enough water for him to properly submerge most of his body. As is, hot showers get the job done, and there’s something about the sensation of his body being wet that turns him on – especially in a place where he feels safe. Even more so in a place that reeks of Dante.

Stepping out and grabbing the towel closest to him, Vergil dries his hair before tying it around his waist. He inspects his reflection in the mirror and finds it impeccable, all cuts and bruises from the aftermath of battle healed.

A small part of him mourns the absence of the marks Dante had left behind before Vergil took his leave, but he assuages his thoughts by reminding himself that his brother will be back in a matter of days.

When Dante returns, he can ravish Vergil anew. He can leave behind a trail of bruises and bite marks that connect the pale column of Vergil’s neck to the softer flesh around his navel.

He closes his eyes, pressing two of his fingers against the ghost of a particularly dark bruise left behind on his right hip. Dante had dug his thumb there as he enthusiastically choked on Vergil’s cock, begging for more even when drool and semen spilled down the corners of his mouth.

Vergil licks his lips, vaguely disappointed. Desire kicks up the embers deep in his gut, making the towel shift just enough to demonstrate how much he misses his brother.

“Trust you to find ways to annoy me even in your absence,” Vergil says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walks back out into the bedroom. “Nothing to be done but wait, I suppose.”

Removing the towel and draping it over the back of a chair, Vergil unceremoniously drops himself onto his side of the bed. He sweeps his damp hair back into its usual place before adjusting his position and laying down, his head propped up on the pillows that smell exactly like… detergent.

Vergil frowns. How unappealing a smell when he’s mildly aroused.

It occurs to him, right at this moment, that this was Dante’s intention all along: rile Vergil up and then deny him any form of contentment. Even if he were to seek release, it would be empty and meaningless when not even the bed holds their mixed scents. Much like laying in a foreign nest, Vergil’s demonic instinct curls with faint resentment.

Petulantly turning on his side, Vergil catches sight of a sizeable satchel on the bedside table. The bag itself is made of imitation velvet, a deep blue that contrasts the blood red ribbon tying it at the top. He glares it, recognizing Dante’s calling card in an instant.

Vergil refuses to open it.

He turns to face the other way, humiliatingly rubbing his bare body over as much of the surface area as possible in hopes of at least leaving behind a hint of his own scent. Clean sheets are delightful in theory, or if they’re only clean long enough to be soiled by their mutual presence on them.

He requires more blankets, he decides. But that still won’t be enough. After twenty years of solitude, of being devoid of touch or the presence of someone even remotely conscious, Vergil has become disastrously attached to the creature comforts of the human world. No number of blankets and no amount of blood will be able to substitute the warmth and weight of Dante’s body against his.

Blindly, he reaches out for the satchel and sits up.

Vergil unties the ribbon and unthinkingly spills the contents onto the spot in from of him, his frown deepening as he takes in the assortment of seemingly random odds and ends. He has no idea what any of these things are, only that, at least one of them, looks exceptionally lewd in nature. The nondescript bottle tips him as to what the intention behind the assortment is, but Vergil is more confused than intrigued at this point.

There is a folded piece of paper attached to the bottle of lubricant and Vergil takes it.

_A little something to keep you out of trouble until I get back. They’re all new so don’t worry about it. If you don’t know how to use these then figure it the fuck out because they’re pretty instinctive. You’re a smart guy, just shove them wherever they fit._

_PS, be liberal with the lube for the love of fuck. There’s more in the drawer if you need any._

_PPS, don’t clean the sheets when you’re done. I wanna smell them when I get back._

Warmth spreads atop Vergil’s cheeks and he’s flabbergasted by the mere feeling of it. He’s no stranger to sex, although his experience has been severely limited throughout his lifetime. Most of his sexual encounters have occurred over the expanse of the past year or so, but this is newer still.

He’s overheard Goldstein poke fun at Nero for his inexperience regarding sex toys, but Vergil now feels a twinge of sympathy for the boy.

He gingerly picks through the contraptions and inspects them, pushing buttons and raising his eyebrows when the bullet-shaped instrument begins to vibrate. Its intensity rises with each press until it eventually stops, and Vergil puts it aside with an intrigued hum.

The bigger, bulkier of the toys isn’t as attractive as the previous one. The wider end of the phallic contraption is soft and pliable, with an opening that resembles a pair of lips. Along its side, Dante wrote in black marker: _use your imagination_. Little imagination is required for this.

The last two pieces don’t quite look like they belong. They’re just two red metal clothespins with no instructions or witty notes attached.

Vergil spreads out his new belongings and carefully watches them, uncertain of how to proceed.

_I wanna smell them when I get back._

He can hear Dante’s drawl as if he were in the room with him, whispering it into his ear with the promise of sensual debauchery that would last all night.

Instead, all he has is plastic and metal.

Vergil has half of mind to simply go to sleep and forget this entire ordeal, pack it all away and be on his merry way come morning. Run the errands Dante has neglected, continue his plans of kitchen renovations, perhaps even attempt more awkward conversation with his son.

Unfortunately, Vergil’s dick has taken keen interest in the idea of Dante smelling Vergil on their bed. Dry sweat and semen, all smeared and embedded into the sheets and mattress in such a way that no amount of laundry detergent could remove Vergil from it. The thought of Dante going absolutely animalistic the moment he walks through the bedroom door, nostrils flaring and eyes wide as they home in on Vergil, pouncing on him with every ounce of demonic fervor…

Vergil licks his lips.

Perhaps, this isn’t the worst of scenarios.

Moving up the bed to rest his back against the pillows and make himself as comfortable as possible, Vergil reaches for the bottle. He takes a moment to inspect it, but there’s nothing other than the white cap keeping the contents sealed inside. He pops it open and pours some into his palm, wasting no time in wrapping his hand around half-hard cock.

The cold is a minor discomfort, one that vanishes the more he works himself until he’s fully erect. Even then he doesn’t stop, stroking from root to tip and delighting in the small shivers that chase each other up and down his spine. His head falls back, and his body slackens, the only thing taut still being his hand, squeezing and stroking, milking little beads of white from the ruddy tip.

It’s utterly _delightful_ , more so than the times he’s done so purely out of need. Back then he had hurried, without lubrication, to get himself off and continue pushing on before any demon got a jump on him. As he got older, he forwent the action altogether, forgetting how good it felt to just touch oneself.

Vergil pauses, resting his open palm against the base as his cock stands proudly between thumb and forefinger. He takes slow breaths, bringing himself down from the high he carelessly flung himself into, tipping dangerously close to an edge he doesn’t want to surrender to just yet.

The hand not holding onto his shaft lands softly at the center of his chest and Vergil opens his eyes, half wishing with all his might for Dante to be standing at the foot of the bed, watching him touch himself with a licentious gleam in his bright blue eyes. But he’s not there, and Vergil resents him for it.

How dare Dante not be here.

How dare Dante not be waiting to serve him.

How dare Dante not be standing over him, fucking Vergil into submission once more.

_—until I get back,_ the note says. Vergil stomps that treacherous voice inside him, the one that whispers that he’s been abandoned once more.

He pinches his nipple hard enough to snap him back to the here and now of their bed, in their bedroom, within the worn walls of Devil May Cry. Vergil is _home_. He has been for a while now.

Besides, that pinch felt sinfully good.

Vergil rolls it before pinching and tugging _hard_ , drawing an unexpected gasp out of him. His sucks his lower lip into his mouth, moving on to repeat the action on the other side of his chest.

He wonders how it would feel were Dante to suck on his nipples, and the thought sends a violent wave of want right down to his dick. He might like that more than the prospect of Dante suckling on the head of his cock, but he can’t be sure until he’s experienced it firsthand.

With a featherlight touch, he returns to stroking his cock all the while exploring the unmarred expanse of his chest. He doesn’t feel overly confident. While the touch is undoubtedly pleasant it does very little to get his blood pumping.

Vergil stops altogether and narrows his eyes at the ceiling, feeling embarrassingly idiotic in taking part of such juvenile actions. There is really no point for this sort of release when he’s trained his body to seek other forms of doing so. The only reason why he has even bothered with sex is due to Dante’s insatiable appetite for it, his hands constantly on Vergil, pushing and pulling and pressing regardless of who may be in the room with them.

_You just don’t know what you’re doing,_ Vergil can hear Dante’s voice mockingly in his ear. _If you can’t fuck yourself right, how the hell do you expect to blow someone else’s mind? My mind?_

“Some of us didn’t have the privilege of wasting time on something so frivolous,” Vergil replies, pinching the bridge of his nose with frustration.

_Excuses, excuses._

“Dante.”

_Oh,_ the word drags out slow and sultry. _Already calling my name._

Vergil has never questioned the uncanny voice in his head that mimics Dante to perfection. Phantom conversations with his brother were one of the very few things that kept him afloat in the deepest pits of Hell. Even when torn limb from limb, shattered beyond recognition only to be put back together and shredded anew by demons who carried Dante’s face – Vergil could hear him. The incessant bickering. The cockiness. Always pulling him back.

This is similar, but different. For one, the voice in his head never spoke so crudely.

_You really gotta stop thinking, Vergil. Let yourself feel. The good stuff, I mean._

Vergil scoffs.

_Work with me here. Remember the first time I blew you. You know, with you sitting on my chair, thinking you owned the place, plotting how you were going to remodel my office. Remember that?_

“How could I possibly forget? You wouldn’t stop even when Nero walked into the building.” Still, a smirk tugs at the edges of his lax frown.

_Not like the kid could see me under the desk. Had to test that iron will of yours._

“He most certainly heard you.”

_Wrap a hand around your cock again. Nice and tight… just like that. Use more lube._ Vergil obeys, methodically going through the steps. _That’s good. Now focus on the head, tight and fast. Flick your thumb over the slit, pretend it’s my tongue._

Vergil can’t help the moan that escapes at that, furiously working a hand over his slick cock. He can almost see Dante, his head bobbing over his lap and hair obscuring his face. Vergil wants to push it back, fist it and make Dante take him deeper until he’s choking, until his only salvation comes in the form of Vergil’s mercy.

_Easy there, Verge. Don’t wanna cum just yet._

“Damn you,” he grits out, the words breaking around a gasp. Alone, he cares not for keeping himself in check. He will scream out in either pleasure or pain, whichever satisfies him first, and only he will be privy to it.

_Stop._

The command sends shivers dancing along his body, and Vergil can do nothing but acquiesce yet again. He stills his hand, denying himself release.

_You still haven’t tried any of the gifts I got you._

“I don’t want them.”

_Quit lying to yourself and just do it. At least use the little purple one. I know you want to._

He does want to. Quite a lot. The mere idea of soft vibrations anywhere on him will undoubtedly set him off with how close to orgasm he continues to push himself before pulling away out of some form of masochistic tendencies.

Vergil reaches for the bullet-shaped toy and appreciates its soft texture with his clean hand. He rubs it between his fingers, dragging his thumb over the domed end. Clicking it on, he continues to hold it until the vibration makes his hand feel odd. Only then does he relinquish his hold by placing it near his navel, then rolling it towards the slick base of his cock when the sensations grow more and more intense. He holds it there, nearly bruising the spot as he digs it further into his skin, ravenous for more of that glorious feeling.

It’s unbelievable. Vergil can’t begin to comprehend how such amounts of pleasure can be derived from such an unassuming device. He adjusts the speed to its highest setting and glides it along the length of him – and it’s _enough_. Wholly unexpected, Vergil cums.

That sound that slips out of him is one drowned in half surprise as he spills over himself, thick rivulets of white staining his toy and fingers.

Vergil moves his hand away when the vibrations become too much, but he can’t pry his sights away from the mess he’s made. To think that it occurred so abruptly, that he had no time and no real desire to withhold himself. A part of him is appalled by his lack of self-control, but the voice that sounds like Dante reassures him that there is nothing wrong with controlled surrender.

Closing his eyes, Vergil allows himself to drift. The concept of self-pleasure is such a novel concept for him, one he can readily commit to in the absence of his other half. While it may not carry the same weight or satisfaction as sex with Dante does, there could be much worse ways for Vergil to spend his time.

Once he has found his footing again, Vergil emerges with new resolve.

Grabbing the bottle, he pours copious amounts of it into his hand and continues his exploration, this time pushing past his barriers and treading territory only Dante has wandered into. Legs spread as far apart as they can go, Vergil reaches down, careful not to touch his sensitive cock in order to teasingly circle his finger around the tight ring of muscle that involuntarily clenches at the pressure.

All remaining decorum cast to the winds; he pushes inside.

The initial burn is hardly noticeable with the lubricant to ease his finger’s passage, but the pressure is there, and it is enticing. A newer discovered interest, Vergil finds the sensation of being filled a delight to his senses for reasons he can’t begin to fathom. Dante had teased him for it, but Vergil can’t bother rising to the bait when having his hole stuffed never fails to begin unraveling the spool. It is obscene, salacious, and Vergil has no shame in admitting that he craves it.

He adds two more fingers without hesitation, drawing pleasure from the momentary pain. He allows himself a moment of accommodation before he’s moving them, spreading and preparing as if readying his body to welcome something far bigger than his mere hand.

More lubricant, and then he’s fucking himself in earnest.

His cock is still hard despite his previous orgasm, bobbing with the force of his movements. Vergil neglects it in favor of his search for that sacred spot Dante so avidly seeks out and promptly exploits upon discovery. He crooks his fingers, pushes deeper, scissors them, to no avail. Not one to admit defeat, Vergil flips onto his stomach to better reach around himself.

_On your knees,_ Dante’s voice sweetly whispers.

Face down on his pillow, Vergil pushes up onto his knees. The arch of his back isn’t the easiest to achieve, especially for the act he currently partakes in, but Vergil endures. It’s easier to reach, easier to reinsert his fingers into his ass and work himself until his thighs begin to tremble, the hot coil in his gut once again blistering. He’s so close his eyes shut in warning— but Vergil removes his hand before he can climax.

Instead, in a burst of brilliant inspiration, he reaches for the bullet-sized toy.

A scornful voice that cuts from deep within scolds him. It tells him to pull himself together, to cease with this pathetic trembling of his muscles so desperate for bliss. The treacherous litany of _should not_ and _cannot_ turns to one far more vicious, one that just as seductively whispers _deserve not_. Vergil agrees with it with every fiber of his being, demonic and otherwise. But this isn’t about deserving. This is about selfishness.

He will take what he wants from himself when he wants to. He will not hesitate to destroy his very body in his lust, not when there are no eyes other than his own to witness it. In the absence of all, Vergil has the opportunity to cleave himself wide open and explore his inner workings in the most primal of ways. His mind he knows well. His soul, albeit in tatters, he can piece together into a semblance of what it is meant to be. His heart, still bleeding in a gory knot as it coalesces with its missing piece, he can aspire to comprehend. His body, this weak yet useful vessel he has returned to after so readily casting it aside – this he can break and sculpt into a vase capable of holding something sacred.

It takes a moment before Vergil can bring himself to continue, the warring needs within him banished until there is only the here and the now. With a steadying breath, he slips the toy inside of him and pauses.

He can barely feel it, it’s small size comparable to a single finger. Still, he knows that turning it on will push him over the edge once more. This time he wants to savor it.

Vergil grabs the pillow next to his – Dante’s pillow – and shoves it beneath his hips. This is all his brother’s fault anyway, so he may as well deal with the consequence of having his favorite pillow soiled. The worn cotton is soft against his throbbing cock, and Vergil takes a moment to delight in the simple motion of rutting into it, smearing his essence along with lubricant as his slow rhythm quickens. Perspiration stings his eyes as he pushes closer and closer, the bubbling heat once again threatening to boil over until his hips still and he whines with frustration.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this for, but he continues to push and pull until he laughs into his own pillow. He’s being juvenile, coiling his body in anticipation and then denying himself what he expects to be the sweetest of release. Vergil wishes it were Dante’s body beneath him. Dante’s succulent muscles trapping and milking his agonized cock; his little brother pliant and wanton, asking Vergil to stake his claim.

Dante would be mouthy. More so than usual. But here, cocooned in the nest of their own making, Dante would not think twice about begging. Vergil can almost hear his voice, choked and broken, whining, breathless. A sacred invocation. A benediction. And Vergil could deny him nothing.

“You absolute fool,” Vergil grunts through gritted teeth. Another laugh, this one bitter, because he knows, buried deep beneath the layers of self-preservation and resolute discipline, that he is nothing but clay for Dante to give shape to with his godly hands. If anyone is to end up begging, screaming himself hoarse for more, it would be him.

Because the inescapable reality of it all is that Vergil loves Dante more than he can begin to comprehend. A love that borders on obsession, hunger, lust, hatred, a sublime need to become one, to live within the cavern of Dante’s very being. It is less of a feeling and more of a force, a palpable entity all its own that lives at the hollow of Vergil’s throat, the recesses of his mind, the well of his heart, and the root of his cock.

It’s at the very last second that Vergil finally presses the unassuming black button at the base of the toy, and the softest of vibrations hits him harder than anything ever could. His body goes rigid, the unbearable build finally going taut and snapping, sending him careening into a void of nothing but sensation, of absolute ecstasy, as he cums, and cums, and cums.

Vergil’s moan is loud to his own ears, and it sounds like something foreign, not his own, as it wavers and breaks, rebranding itself into something akin to Dante’s name.

He rides his orgasm with abandon, humping the pillow, nails digging into the sheets hard enough to rip. Vergil’s back arches as he finally reaches the tail end of euphoria with a pathetic mewl, body finally collapsing with a heave that nearly devolves into a fit. But he stops any and all movement, allowing for time to just be.

Vergil allows himself to exist in the aftermath of pleasure, however incomplete it might be. His limbs feel heavy, his cock is still hard, and his mind if hazy with smug grins and saucy words that promise more of that same mind-blowing gratification.

“Three days,” Vergil says to the empty room, the vibrations sending shiver after shiver up his spine. Just three days until Dante returns from his job.

Until then, there are two more contraptions he has no idea how to use but is more than eager to master.

* * *

Dante carefully balances the assortment of takeout containers as he shoves open the front doors with his hip, ignoring the static feel of his hairs standing on end once the protective sigils react to his presence. He’s gotten used to it by now, the constant magical tinkling that takes place in and around his home courtesy of his brother’s incessant need for some form of control. It’s usually benevolent tricks so Dante lets it slide.

Closing the door behind him, he briefly takes in the state of the front office. Everything is in its rightful state, which means everything is exactly as he left it – a right mess. There are no new additions to the collection of empty bottles littered about, and no books have been put back on their shelves. The only solid indication that Vergil is even here are the tightly set wards right outside the doors – and the mind-numbingly fan-fucking-tastic scent that assaults Dante’s senses the moment he steps closer to the stairs.

He stops at the very first step to properly take it in, that pungent smell of sweat and sex and pheromones that drags a wide grin from him. Not only did Vergil listen to him, for once, but it seems like he did so _avidly_.

Dante takes the stairs two at a time and nearly dances his way over to the bedroom door, where he knocks after he’s pressed his ear to it. At the absence of a reply, Dante lets himself in.

The room itself is more or less in the same condition. The most obvious difference is in the form of an unmoving lump under the bed covers.

“Someone’s been busy,” Dante says, making his way to the small desk and depositing the takeout on it. He turns back towards the bed as he shrugs his coat off his shoulders and paces the cluttered area, taking in the damage.

The first thing to catch his attention is an old coat of his, its tattered ends dragging on the floor while the rest of it vanishes under the comforter. Beside it is the fleshlight, seemingly unused. An empty bottle of lube rests on the nightstand along with the tiny purple vibrator he had so graciously purchased for his brother. His brother, who still hasn’t reacted to his presence.

Draping his coat over the foot of the bed, Dante unceremoniously jumps onto the mattress and straddles the unmoving lump as best he can without tipping over. “Hey, wise guy. I’m talking to you.” He grabs the comforter and yanks it downward, revealing a mop of disheveled silver hair and icy blues side-eyeing him with discontent.

“I’m trying to sleep,” Vergil says, trying to pull the worn blanket back over his head. “It’s ungodly bright out.”

“That’s just my pearly whites.” Dante refuses to let up his hold and instead tips forward, loudly smacking his lips against Vergil’s cheek. “Get up. I brought breakfast.”

Vergil pushes his face away with a disgruntled frown, attempting to bury himself further into the bed. “Allow me to guess. Cheese pizza with anchovies.”

Dante straightens up but deposits all of his weight on his brother’s body, likely crushing his hips, but Vergil doesn’t seem too bothered by it. “Belgian waffles, French toast, sausages, a bowl of fresh fruit… though don’t ask me what exactly is in that. I think it has watermelon. Also grabbed a couple packets of tea from the diner down the block. Figured you’d want some. No idea what kind you like so I grabbed one of every free sample.”

The intention had been that of a peace offering. Once on the job, Dante had given thought to the consequences of the little game he left behind for Vergil to play. While his plan had wholeheartedly involved Vergil letting off a different type of steam, he also hoped to frustrate him further. Dante isn’t in the business of making Vergil’s life that much easier, after all. He expected his brother to be both sated and pissy upon his return, so he figured food would be the best way to appease the devil in his bed.

Vergil doesn’t look too inclined to move. He seems to have become one with the pillow under his head, his body soft and pliant against the mattress. _Fucked out_ , Dante thinks, and he can’t keep the smugness from his face, or the blood from settling hotly in his now raging hard-on.

When Vergil still doesn’t move, Dante does the next best thing: he ruts against him, making sure the bulge in his pants drags along a sharp hipbone. He lowers himself again, propped up on his hands and caging Vergil underneath, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across the expanse of his face and neck. Dante sucks a bruise in the juncture of neck and jaw, lavishing the spot with ample attention until Vergil finally decides to roll fully onto his back.

“Welcome home,” Vergil says, the words soft enough to be nearly missed.

Dante presses their lips together for a soft seal before pulling away enough to speak unhindered. “Glad you were able to keep yourself out of trouble.”

“Your gifts drove a hard bargain.” Vergil’s smile is toothy, mischievous despite the calmness reflected on the rest of his face. “They exceeded any and all expectations. Though, I think I may have broken the small one.”

Dante laughs. “If you mean the vibe, it’s probably just out of battery.” Shifting around to make himself more comfortable, Dante lays entirely on Vergil, resting his chin on his chest. “You didn’t use the fleshlight, though.”

“Is that what that big, clunky thing is called? It took me a few tries to get it, but it ultimately felt too awkward to use with one hand.” Vergil shuts his eyes with a hum, clearly reminiscing about his sexcapade. “It wasn’t… tight enough, to merit my efforts.”

“You honestly didn’t leave this bed for three whole fucking days?”

“Only to relieve myself.”

“Did you even eat?”

“I don’t require sustenance.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been stuffing your face ever since we got back.”

“Personal preference, mostly.”

“I’m not judging,” Dante says, accentuating the statement with a slow roll of his hips. “In fact, I got you one more thing while I was on the job. I think you’ll like it.”

Vergil’s eyes light up, that lazy edge of contentment now replaced by interest. “You spoil me, little brother.”

Dante groans at the endearment that falls so sweetly off Vergil’s tongue. “Don’t sing your praises yet,” he says, returning to the same bruise he’s just sucked on. “I’m gonna have to stuff you full for this one to reach its full potential.”

Vergil sighs with want. “I’ve wanted no less since I returned from the job.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dante sits up again, doing quick work of his gloves. “You wanna tell me what you thought about? What you did while I was gone? Don’t skip out on the juicy details.”

Vergil finally reaches out from underneath the comforter, placing his hands on Dante’s hips and pushing upward underneath his shirt. His touch is warm, comforting, and Dante can’t wait to get naked.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Vergil says. “It was therapeutic. Cathartic, even. Allowing myself to let go, both mentally and physically.”

“How many times did you come?”

“Can’t say. Lost track after the first day.”

Dante grunts his approval, squeezing his dick through his pants before he starts working on his belt. “Any, uh, sexy fantasies? Not gonna lie, kinda hoped you’d have fucked the fleshlight and pretended it was my mouth.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t tight enough. Or hot enough, for that matter.”

Pants discarded, Dante takes his cock in hand and furiously pumps himself, eyes fixed on Vergil’s devastatingly gorgeous face. “Was it just my mouth or…?”

Vergil licks his lips, eyes drawn to the sight of Dante’s fist flying over his cock. “I enjoyed the thought of you taking me. A lot.”

The declaration wrenches an appreciative sound out of Dante, one that’s quickly taken over by a laugh. “I almost got an arm chopped off yesterday,” he says, slowing his hand to squeeze at the root. “Couldn’t stop thinking about coming back home and bending you over the pool table, fucking you raw until you couldn’t walk.”

Vergil drags his blunt nails down Dante’s thighs, leaving behind burning lines and shivering pleasure. “How uncouth.”

“How’d you imagine me fucking you?”

Vergil doesn’t hesitate. “Up against the wall,” he whispers. “Held up by nothing but your strength, your lovely cock splitting me open and driving me towards nothing but ecstasy.”

The words stoke the fire already lit in Dante’s gut. He has half a mind to deliver on Vergil’s fantasy, but before coming home he made himself a promise, one he will adamantly see through. The time for ruthless fucking will eventually follow, when they can sink into the violence of their copulating and freely drink from their demonic need. Right now, Dante needs to give Vergil something entirely different.

Barely able to control himself, Dante clumsily gets the comforter out of the way to reveal the unblemished body beneath. Vergil’s marble-like skin is warm and soft, his muscles rippling with minute movement in order to accommodate the man above him. Vergil parts his legs, and Dante takes it as the invitation it is.

“I could smell you downstairs,” Dante says, trailing a line of hot kisses along Vergil’s jawline as he rests his full weight on him once more. “So musky it’s almost sickening. Made me hard the moment it hit my nose.”

Vergil tips his head back to allow Dante free roaming rights to the milky column of his neck and wastes no time to begin to nip and suck, licking hot paths that have Vergil panting in the otherwise quiet bedroom. “All me and not enough of you,” he says, caressing Dante’s back until his hands come to rest on his ass. A light smack makes Dante grin.

“There’s more than enough time to make this place ours,” Dante says against his mouth, playfully dipping his tongue inside so that Vergil gives chase once it retreats. “We’re starting right the fuck now, though. Gonna pump you full of my—oh!” The outburst ruins the sensual mood he was going for, that much is obvious by the way Vergil rolls his eyes, but he remembers the gift.

Somehow, without really moving away from the trap that are Vergil’s thighs, Dante reaches for the coat he has just discarded. He blindly rummages through the inside pockets and makes a triumphant sound when he finds and pulls out a black velvet satchel. Rolling it between his fingers, he holds it up for Vergil to see.

“I’ll forgive this interruption only if it’s another vibrator.”

“Nope. It’s something a little different, but I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it just the same.” Dante places the satchel to the side for the time being. “Got any lube left?”

Vergil produces Dante’s own bottle from underneath the pillow. There’s only a little left, but it’s enough. “I figured I should have saved at least a small amount in case of this very situation.”

“Smartest man I’ve ever met,” Dante coos, reaching for the bottle and squeezing its remaining contents onto his palm. This time, he slowly drags a closed fist along his length, hissing as he briefly works the tip before dragging it back down again, squeezing the base. “Did you prep yourself?”

“Yes.”

Dante hums as he grabs Vergil’s hips and pulls him so that his ass rests on his thighs. With a hand on the back of Vergil’s knee he pushes up and back, exposing him enough for Dante to see the evidence of the past couple of days. There isn’t an inch of skin that isn’t slick, the ring of muscle a bright pink.

“Fuck, Verge. You really did a number on yourself.” Using his free hand, Dante drags his thumb along the perineum until it presses against the heat of his entrance. “Got your tight hole nice and open for your little brother to fuck.”

He’s pushing it with the dirty talk, he knows this, but Vergil hasn’t complained. Instead, he looks to be drinking it all up, relishing in the attention he is being showered with.

It’s a good look on him, this unguarded indulgence. Splayed open and waiting to be serviced as he watches through half-lidded eyes. Dante has consumed his fair share of pornos and skin mags throughout his life, but nothing has ever gotten him going quite like this. He never thought the word erotic could possibly be used to describe Vergil, but here he is. Here they are.

“Legs on my shoulders,” Dante prompts, and Vergil complies.

The slide into Vergil’s body is effortless.

Dante nearly busts the moment he bottoms out, unable to believe that Vergil could do this to himself. That he has been at this for three entire days, jacking off, fingering himself, apparently blowing his load onto Dante’s old clothes so many times the leather of his coat is nearly stiff to the touch. The whole room reeks of sex, of two alpha demons claiming their territory as they rut for primal release.

Vergil moves his hips in a demand for more, and Dante doesn’t have the heart to deny him.

It’s fast and dirty, with Dante nearly folding Vergil in half with each powerful thrust. The muscles of his legs tighten as Dante holds them in place, rocking his hips without rhyme or reason. He attentively watches Vergil, who stares right back with glazed eyes and parted lips, soft grunts and pleas for more tumbling free as Dante spears him over and over and over again, harder, faster, until Vergil is soundless and writhing beneath him.

Dante lets go of his legs, letting them fall to his sides in favor of bringing them closer together. Chest to chest, he captures Vergil’s mouth in a searing kiss that holds every secret and confession Dante has ever held in the cradle of his being. His hands encase Vergil’s face and hold him still, their noses bumping and teeth chinking together as they try to kiss again, but a surprising laugh bubbles out of Vergil’s chest and Dante can’t help but reciprocate it. The laugh, however, devolves into a moan that lodges itself halfway out of Vergil’s throat when Dante changes the angle of his thrusts and hits what he’d been searching for.

“Let’s spend eternity like this,” Dante finds himself muttering, pressing a kiss to Vergil’s earlobe. “Just you and me, in bed, cold waffles on the desk.” Vergil clenches around his cock and Dante’s pace falters before picking back up.

“Dante,” the name comes unbidden, and Dante consumes it.

“God, Vergil, you feel so fucking good.”

“ _Harder_ ,” Vergil says as his hands find Dante’s amidst their frantic roaming. “I trust you can – _ah_ – at the very least… live up to your legendary status.”

“I could break you in half, brother,” he growls against Vergil’s mouth, “and it still wouldn’t be enough for you.”

Their fingers entwine and Dante wishes – always wishing – that this would never end. He feels powerful, capable of conquering the world and bringing it to its feet, but there is nothing to be done when the world is already in his arms, looking at him with baby blues that swim with something akin to adoration.

Dante stifles a laugh, this time out of incredulity at the sheer amount of sap plaguing him. He must be getting old. The questioning look Vergil gives him is brushed away with a kiss between his eyebrows. “You’re gonna cum for me, Vergil? Show me how good I’m fucking you?”

“I—Dante, I…can’t…” The words fail to materialize but Dante gets what he means, and the sound of Vergil’s broken attempt to speak tightens his balls with the rising swell of orgasm.

“Yeah, you can. Come on, Vergil. There’s nothing you can’t do, right? So you’re gonna cum nice and hard and _loud_. Get me off. Get me to cum inside you.”

Dante watches with rapt attention as Vergil goes still, eyes squeezing shut and mouth forming a silent moan that is undoubtedly the most beautiful thing Dante has ever seen. He quickly glances down at the absence of any sort of warmth regardless of the obvious orgasm that currently wreaks havoc on Vergil’s body, only to find a whole lot of nothing.

“You sonuvabitch,” Dante mumbles, a wicked grin splitting his face, “you literally milked yourself dry.” He returns his sights to Vergil’s face, his cheeks flushed a light pink and eyelashes wet due to the discomfort of what probably isn’t even his first dry orgasm, and Dante is both proud of him and slightly disappointed.

All Vergil says, eyes tightly shut and shoulders trembling, is, “ _fuck_.”

“Don’t sweat it. I got enough for both of us.” Dante teeters dangerously over the edge, squeezing the fingers in his grasp as he lets his mind drift in the euphoria before he’s abruptly brought right back by Vergil.

“Look at me, Dante. You look at me and see who has brought you to ruin.”

By all means, it’s not the sexiest thing Vergil has ever said, but it’s the way he says it – pitched low and breathless, a world apart from the even and arrogant cadence of his usual speech pattern – that has Dante coming apart between Vergil’s thighs. Vergil could read the electric bill in that voice and make Dante cream his pants. At least he’s currently buried deep inside him.

Dante claims Vergil’s mouth as he cums, any and all sounds drowned out by the wet smack of tongue and lips.

It’s sheer bliss after not having been in each other’s presence in over a week. Dante figures a week isn’t that long a time after a two-decade long separation, but now that they’ve found each other again, now that they’re here, it’s hard to turn away. This is mainly the reason why they’ve agreed on taking separate jobs every now and then, to reassure each other that after it is all said and done, they will come home.

As banal and domestic as it may be, Dante has found peace.

He collapses onto his brother with a groan, nuzzling the side of his neck with a smile.

Vergil is quiet and unmoving, his breathing ragged even as Dante traces idle patterns over his chest. He drags a nail around an erect nipple and chuckles when Vergil slaps it away. “Sensitive?”

“Regardless of my biology, I need a break,” Vergil says against Dante’s hair. “That orgasm was equal parts painful and pleasurable.”

“You like that sort of thing.”

“What I like… is when my brother brings me gifts. You never showed me what it is.”

“Right!” Dante carefully moves and grabs the satchel, handing it over. “Open it.”

He watches Vergil as his fingers sluggishly pry open the present and reach inside, his eyebrows pushing together quizzically as he pulls out the chrome butt plug that cost Dante a pretty penny. Only the best for his big brother, after all. The stopper has a red gem on it, along with a stylized D.

“What is it?” Vergil says, rolling it around his palm with intrigue. He hums in amusement when he turns it over and sees the stopper.

“Let me show you,” Dante says, trying his best for seduction once more. “I know your body’s reached its limit but… just hold on a little longer. For me.”

Vergil sighs. “As if I’m able to deny you anything when you pout, Dante.”

Pressing another kiss to Vergil’s chest, Dante carefully shifts his weight to pull out. He’s quick but gentle about it, wanting not a single drop of his seed to go to waste as he inserts the plug and gives the topper a little flick once it’s fully in place.

Amidst the keening moans that stumble out of Vergil, he hisses a soft “yes” that has Dante blessing whatever deity may be spying on them.

“There,” Dante says, “now you got a little bit of me inside you.”

“That’s obscene,” but the words are imbued with a sense of satisfaction, not to mention exhaustion.

Dante takes mercy on his brother, looking thoroughly fucked out and ready for sleep for the better part of a day or so. With one more nibble to Vergil’s shoulder, Dante gracelessly stumbles out of the bed and towards their neglected breakfast. To think, all of this, and before 9:00 am.

The waffles will most likely be cold and require a quick round in the toaster downstairs to crisp back up, so Dante pops a sausage link into his mouth and grabs the small bowl fruit. Before returning to bed, he makes a quick stop by the bathroom, where the electric kettle is plugged to the only functioning power outlet on the second floor and flips the switch for the water to boil. He doubts Vergil will be awake long enough for tea, but it’s the thought that counts.

Drawing the curtains closed and turning on the small lamp by their bed, Dante unceremoniously knocks everything not being used onto the floor, namely his tattered old coat and the nipple clamps that look unsurprisingly unused. He slips into the bed and Vergil is on him instantly, wrapping himself along Dante’s side as he rests propped up against the headboard.

“How you feeling?” Dante removes the lid from the bowl and inspects its contents. Those are definitely fruits.

Vergil makes a nondescript sound.

“Had I known this is all it would take to keep you in line, I would have gotten you some equipment back in the day.” Dante winces when Vergil viciously pinches his belly. His reply consists of plucking a grape from the stem and holding it to Vergil’s bottom lip. “Eat.”

Vergil does as he’s told, taking the opportunity to shift around on the bed and lay on his back, half sprawled on Dante’s lap. His face briefly twitches, and Dante assumes it must be due to the plug shifting with him.

Dante holds up another grape, and this time Vergil takes it gingerly between his teeth, eyes shut. Biting it squirts juice over his lips, and Dante dabs his fingers over them before sucking said fingers clean. “Hedonism looks good on you, big brother.”

Vergil, with his devastatingly handsome face still tinged a soft pink, has the audacity to smirk at him. “Figured I’d take a page from your book. Are there any strawberries in there? I can taste them on the grapes.”

There is one strawberry and Dante is overcome by the urge to eat it, but he stops himself before he gets kicked out of bed for it. He takes a solid bite from the plump red fruit before offering it to Vergil, who is waiting with parted lips and a peeking tongue. “Dammit, Verge. It’s like you’re asking to get your ass pounded again.”

“And if I am?”

“Your dick will probably fall off. Then that’d be unfair for both of us.”

Vergil takes the strawberry, chews it, and swallows with impossible grace for someone laying on their back. “You reek of wet dog and demon blood,” is all Vergil offers. “I can’t believe I let you in our bed smelling like that.”

“ _Let_ me?” Dante laughs. “As if you would’ve let me shower before blowing your fucking mind.”

“I blew my own mind beforehand, mind you.”

“I’ll admit I’m kind of jealous I didn’t get to see that.”

“There will be plenty of other times, darling.”

Dante blinks, blindsided by the pet name. The smugness on Vergil’s face says he knows exactly what he’s done, and Dante can’t even come up with a witty reply on the fly. All he can do is sigh with a fondness that beats louder than his own heart, pluck another grape, and feed it to the man comfortably lounging on his lap.

“There sure as hell will be, baby.” Vergil fixes him with a glare, and Dante gives him the most innocent smile he can physically muster. “Takes two to tango, pumpkin.”

“ _Dante_.”

“Ass so sweet I’ll call you honeybuns.”

“That’s awful. You’re awful. I demand a new brother,” Vergil says, but he’s smiling, melting into Dante’s touch as he sweeps his hair out of his face.

To think that they have ended here, after it has all been said and done. To have Vergil so unguarded, sweeter than the food they have just shared, from mouth to mouth. It’s more than he ever could have hoped for, ever could have dared himself to dream. But here they are, with the sweet taste of home bursting on their tongues.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on **[TWITTER](https://twitter.com/shotgunsinlace)** or **[TUMBLR](https://spardaliciously.tumblr.com/)**!


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